


Two Ghosts [DISCONTINUED]

by prophxtslash



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Danny has you on a altar because he is a bit of a simp, Danny is obsessed with you but honestly what'd you expect?, Eventual Smut, Gender-neutral Reader, Multi, Pre-entity, Stalking, a bit of a unhealthy relationship, angst with no happy ending for either of you, murder(because you can't have Dead By Daylight without it)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prophxtslash/pseuds/prophxtslash
Summary: The same tremor shoots up his spine and furious, the Ghostface yanks their head up, slightly wincing at the pained whine they emit. With a snarl, he presses the knife against their throat, reveling in the way their breath hitches, a terrified tilt to it. The scene is all too familiar, all too intimate.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Comments: 46
Kudos: 146





	1. Back to the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I have no idea where this will end up going, so I guess we're both in for a ride.  
> Hope you enjoy!

The snow crunches under his feet as he slinks around the lodge, his face hidden behind the ever screaming mask, its pale surface a stark contrast against the darkness of the wood. The flames in the center of the room do nothing to help either, as its light casts dramatic, looming shadows around the lodge, emphasizing on the frigidity and loneliness the walls hold. Most of the furniture is torn and tossed to the side,dried blood caked on top of the cushions. Even with the disarray of the main hall, the building serves as a base of sorts, for both killer and survivor during these trials; outside of them, it serves as a rally point, despite the claim that the Legion holds over it. The more friendly killers have been known to make their ways towards the Lodge, desperate for any semblance of company in between trials. 

As for the survivors, many have died within this building, and many more will continue to do so.

The Ghostface crouches, leaning from behind the cover of the ledge as he observes the survivor hastily repairing the gen, his back to the stalker as he continues to work, muttering quietly under his breath. The Ghostface holds back a chuckle, flexing his fingers around the handle of his knife as he maintains his position. ‘A few more moments,’ he thinks to himself, ‘it’s about being patient.’ The boy secures the last wire into place, the generator whirring to life as he stands, a satisfied grin creeping onto his face.

The Ghostface grins as well.

A terrified scream tears from the survivor’s throat as Ghostface lunges, tearing the back of the boy’s shirt open. Stumbling, the boy falls, knocking his face onto the concrete below, a tooth cracking in the process. The Ghostface takes ahold of the opportunity, stabbing his buck knife directly into the survivor’s back, a stream of blood spraying onto his hands. The boy sobs, attempting to crawl away.

“Where do you think you’re going, Dwighty?” He chuckles, stomping onto Dwight’s back, forcing the survivor back onto his stomach. Dwight merely groans in response, already dizzy from the blood loss as well the slight concussion from earlier. The Ghostface’s grin only widens as he falls to his knees, straddling Dwight’s back. In a fluid motion, he stabs the knife back into the boy’s back repeatedly, Dwight’s screams echoing in the lodge. Satisfied with the damage, he raises Dwight’s head and adjusts the camera into position. 

“Say cheese!”

Dwight’s only response is a dripping mouthful of blood, the crimson pooling onto the floor. The Ghostface releases his hold on Dwight, ignoring the crack that comes from the boy’s head. He open’s the camera’s gallery and selects his most recent masterpiece. The Ghostface nods, satisfied with the picture. He rises to his feet, giving Dwight's corpse an extra kick for good measure. 

“That’s what you get for not saying cheese...spoilsport.” 

A bang sounds off in the distance, drawing the Ghostface’s attention immediately. He chuckles, dark and low, crouching as he exits the lodge, heading towards the source of the disturbance. The shadows help hide him as he makes his way over, his coat’s tendrils flowing behind him like wings. He hears the generator being worked on and gets into position, ducking behind a nearby boulder. He peeks from the side, focusing his attention onto the two survivors working away.

“--’s not your fault. You’re still new, so we can’t expect you to immediately get it. You’ll get better.” Ash says, completely unaware of the killer’s presence. The Ghostface bites back a smile as he tries to get a better look at the other survivor. Realizing that they were on the other side, he falls back behind the boulder, locking his gaze onto Ash’s back, building up the adrenaline to down him instantly.

“Still. Thank you for helping me. I wish we could have helped Dwight. Are you sure there’s nothing we could’ve done?”

The Ghostface pauses a moment, his eyebrows furrowed behind the mask. Ash’s response falls deaf on his ears as he leans back a little, perplexed. Why is he hesitating? Who is this new survivor and why do they sound so familiar?

The generator lights up and the Ghostface snaps out of it, choosing now to strike. He springs from the shadows and leaps onto Ash, pushing him to the snow, raising the knife.

“Run, kid!” Ash yells, stopping the Ghostface’s hand for a moment, just enough to let the other escape. The Ghostface pushes harder against the man, the knife scraping the edge of his throat. He’s about to break through, about to end it here when a thunk rings out, close enough for him to turn his attention towards it. 

No.

The new survivor stares at him, mouth agape in horror as they stumble backwards, away from the vault they had clumsily swung over. The knife comes to his side as the Ghostface stares back, a terrified expression hidden beneath the mask.  
Ash scrambles out from under the Ghostface, shouting something at the other survivor before disappearing into the lodge. Both killer and survivor stare at one another for a moment longer, and Ghostface takes a step forward towards them, only for him to freeze when his name leaves their lips.

“Danny?” 

Danny shudders, a tremor shooting along his spine as he lowers his head, forcing his gaze downwards, avoiding their face, and most importantly, their eyes. The simple whisper of his real name has him breathless and for the most fleeting of moments, the Ghostface is human.

The shrill siren of the final generator being finished rings out and the Ghostface returns, snapping his head up only to find the clearing empty, the scratch marks of the survivor beginning to seep into the snow. Cursing under his breath, he crouches, stalking towards the nearest gate, a dangerous tilt to his movements. Despite the cold being practically nonexistent here, thanks to the Entity, he can’t help but shiver.

Jane releases the switch, the gate groaning as it opens. She ushers Ash in front of her, with the other survivor flanking the end. Ash crosses the threshold, the fog swirling around him as Jane follows, disappearing into the darkness. Lastly, the survivor hesitates, glancing over their shoulder, as if waiting for one final confrontation.

The Ghostface laughs bitterly. “Idiot.”

He leaps onto them, ignoring the way his heart clenches at their scream, and he stabs the knife into their shoulder. They sob and clutch at the weapon lodged into them, a string of incoherent words flowing from their mouth. The Ghostface digs the knife in further, a horrific wail echoing the walls of the gate. As if satisfied with the amount of damage dealt, he tears the weapon from the wound, earning a garbled groan in response. They blink tears away as they squint up at their assailant, a look of pity crossing their face.

“Danny--”

The same tremor shoots up his spine and furious, the Ghostface yanks their head up, slightly wincing at the pained whine they emit. With a snarl, he presses the knife against their throat, reveling in the way their breath hitches, a terrified tilt to it. The scene is all too familiar, all too intimate. 

The two remain in this position for a moment, almost unaware of the world around them, as if they have returned to the sleepy town they had grown up in. If Danny thought hard enough, he could almost smell the shampoo they were fond of using. He wonders if they’re thinking the same; he wonders if they see Danny rather than the Ghostface.

A crack resonates and the entity’s tendrils shoot up from the ground, impaling them, an anguished cry tearing from them. They sob the Ghostface’s name, begging for comfort, for anything before they’re silenced, the Entity dragging their lifeless corpse down below, leaving the Ghostface alone. He stares at the space where they had been moments before, flexing his fingers along his side. He’s almost relieved that the Entity had come when it did; he knows that eventually, he would have let them go.

The fog creeps in, and the Ghostface closes his eyes.


	2. The Only Friend You Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He imagines the blood coating the bat, the cracked skull of his father, and the look of horror on his mother’s face. He wonders why he feels remorse for not bashing his head in. He wishes his father was actually dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief glimpse into Danny's childhood. Also, the chapters will be alternating between Pre-Entity and Entity, but other than that it should be fairly easy to follow. Thanks for reading!

Danny is eleven years old and he already hates this new neighbourhood.

Moving from sunny Florida to the middle of who knows where Utah has the boy upset and he stares miserably out the front window, scowling at the snow adorning the ground. Mom continues to unpack, either unaware of her son’s moodiness or pointedly ignoring it; Danny can’t decide which is worse. Despite his apparent displeasure with the situation at hand, Danny knows he can’t hold his mother accountable. The move was meant to be a fresh start, a fresh start away from his father. He decides to blame his father; had he not gotten into his secretary's pants, Danny would still be within walking distance of the beach, as well as with his family intact and not staring outside at the miserable winter scenery. Yet, he wonders how different this could have been, had he let his anger get the better of him. He remembers the shouting that had ensued. He remembers the horrible names his father had called Mom and how loud her sobbing was. He remembers holding the baseball bat so tight that his knuckles turned white. He remembers wanting to kill his father. He imagines the blood coating the bat, the cracked skull of his father, and the look of horror on his mother’s face. He wonders why he feels remorse for not bashing his head in. He wishes his father was actually dead.

Danny grimaces at the thought.

Before he can drill a hole into the window with his glare, his mother moves over to him, giving an affectionate squeeze to his shoulder. He relaxes at the gesture and his scowl lessens, if only slightly.

“Why don’t you go outside for a bit, kiddo? The snow sure looks fun to play in.” His mother suggests, a gentle smile gracing her lips. Danny can’t help but feel guilty at the exchange; Mom was only trying to help him and here he was being a brat.

Danny offers a forced smile.

“Sure. I’ll make a snowman or something.”

Mom grins at this and Danny forgets about being miserable for the briefest of moments.

“I hung up your coat and gloves by the front door. Have fun, honey, and stay warm!”

Mom ushers Danny towards the door, ruffling his hair before moving back towards the living room. Danny turns his attention towards his ‘winter’ gear. Despite the humidity of Florida, Mom had insisted upon having winter clothes, should they ever go somewhere cold for vacation. While he had complained during the entirety of the shopping trip, Danny’s glad that they had done it anyway, especially now.

Once fully suited for the outside, Danny cracks the door open, peeking out. The driveway seemed nice enough, save for the pile of snow stacked towards the side as to make room for the car. As for the street, Danny could at least be grateful for the fact Mom had chosen a cul-de-sac, as it provided more room and time in the street to play in without the fear of oncoming cars.

Then again, playing alone in the street never looks good.

Once again, Danny’s scowl returns and he’s thinking about shutting the door and staying inside. Yet, when he recalls how happy Mom had looked when he had agreed to her suggestion, Danny feels guilty for considering going back on his words. Despite the fact that he would rather stay where the heater was, he heads out anyway, pulling the door shut so as to not let the cold air in. He makes his way over towards the snow bank and for a brief moment, Danny’s not sure what to do. He can make a killer sand castle, but this wasn’t sand. This was snow and Danny has no clue where to start.

“Hey, you’re the new kid right?” A voice calls from Danny’s side. Curious, he lifts his head. Another kid, roughly around his age or so, tilts their head at them, patiently waiting for an answer.

Danny finally answers, “Yeah. My name’s Danny.”

They introduce themself. “I live right next door,” They point to the house on the right of Danny’s.

Danny nods and silence ensues, an awkward tension between the two children. Danny racks his head for something, anything to say. Perhaps how old they were? Maybe make a stupid joke or something of the like?

Before Danny is able to speak, they point at the snow bank. “Did you want to make a snowman? I can help, if you’d like.”

Danny blinks, “Uhm yeah, that’d be great.”

They smile and crouch onto the pavement, gathering some of the snow into a ball. Danny simply watches for a moment. When they turn their head towards him, he can’t help but feel his cheeks grow rosy.

“Are you going to just stand there?”

Danny’s face flushes, and embarrassed, he quickly responds, “I’m from Florida. I’ve never even seen snow before today.”

They laugh at this and Danny’s not sure whether to be offended or not.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Here, I’ll show you how to do it.”

Danny takes a tentative step forward before falling to his knees, bumping shoulders with the kid. After muttering a quick apology, Danny watches as they explain how to pack the snow, as well as how this technique can be used in making some ‘killer snowballs’, as they had put it. Before long, the two are halfway done building the snowman, and whatever awkward tension had been present before is all but vanished as they chatter amongst themselves, discussing earth shattering topics such as their favorite colors and whether or not pineapple truly belongs on pizza or not.

Eventually, the dreaded question is brought up.

“Why did you move out here anyways?” They ask, patting down the front of the snowman, “Utah’s pretty far from Florida.”

Danny knows they don’t mean anything by it, but he can’t help but glower at the question.  
“My dad cheated on my mom, pretty much. Wanted to get as far away from him I guess. I don’t really know. It happened so fast.”

It’s not the whole truth, but it’s enough for now.

They fall silent at the admittal, busying their hands with the snow. After a few moments, they speak again.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Danny shrugs, scooping some snow into his palms before patting against the snowman’s chest.  
“It’s ok. You didn’t know.”

The two don’t say much after, dedicating themselves to the task at hand. At one point, their hands brush against one another and flustered, Danny moves to the other side of the snowman, as to avoid another incident. An hour or so passes, and satisfied, they step back to admire the finished product. Danny moves to stand besides them, observing the creation the two of them had made.

“He needs a name.” They say, stroking their chin for added effect, “I think he looks like a Jeremy.”

Danny squints at the snowman, “He’s much more dignified. Perhaps a Charlemagne.”

They laugh at this, and Danny can’t help the flutter that flares up in his chest.

“You’re right. He does look like a Charlemagne. Tomorrow we’ll make him a crown and a cape. How does that sound, Danny?”

Danny smiles, a genuine one for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Sounds great.”

They nod their head, offering Danny their hand.

“I’ll see you around.”

A foreign feeling rises up yet he pushes it down, opting to return their handshake instead.

“Yeah. See you.”


	3. A Mind to its Undoing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet, the more Danny strains to remember them before the realms, the harder it is for him to picture their face without horror, without blood and gore all around them. With a startle, Danny realizes that the memories he once had, the memories he had cherished and loved beyond himself, beyond even them, were nowhere to be found, drifting away like feathers on the wind. These memories Danny once held dearly didn’t even belong to him anymore; no, he realizes that the Entity really does own all that he is and all that he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fucking god! These bitches gay! Good for them! Good for them.
> 
> Also, the killer campfire idea is originally by my lovely bitch red-doll-face on Tumblr. Love you whore.

It wasn’t often that Danny actively sought out company, especially company such as this. If he could, Danny would avoid the Killers’ Fire all together, given how the more depressing and downright creepy ones hung out around there. Sure, he had practically lived at this campsite at first due to him not having his own realm to call his own, a huge annoyance at first. Then, it had been him and the Leatherface, rather, Bubba, who had occupied the fire the most. They made an odd pair, but Danny had enjoyed the cannibal’s company, often indulging him in stories from before the Entity and the like. Once he discovered the Lodge at Mount Ormond, Danny stayed at the fire less and less, opting to stay at Ormond instead. Danny notices that Bubba isn’t here today, and he makes a mental note to find him at some point to catch up.

However, someone else is here; someone Danny is surprised to see.

“Something the matter?” Caleb mutters, glancing down at the shorter man. Despite being the newest arrival, Caleb adjusted to the realms fairly quickly, to the point where he actively sought out the other killers, even when some were more on the solitary side. Danny often steers clear of most of the killers, save for the Legion, as he immensely enjoyed toying with them at any given moment. Whenever a trial has gone wrong, or he is simply ‘feeling down’(not that he’d ever admit to it), Danny almost always heads straight for the Lodge, looking for any source of entertainment or distraction that he could get his hands on.

However, Danny doesn’t need a distraction. If anything, he needs a solution, a plan.

“No.” Danny sighs, leaning into the palm of his hand. Even when out of the trials, he still feels the need to keep his face covered, almost as if showing his true self was far too intimate for him to share, especially with a bunch of like-minded psychopaths. Yet, for the briefest of moments, he entertains the notion of removing the screaming mask, to show his face just so he could breathe, in both a physical as well as a mental sense. His fingers twitch against his thighs, itching to rip the plastic from his face. Something stops him. Their look of terror. The utter hurt and betrayal in their eyes as he stabbed them. How sickening the crack to their skull was when the Entity claimed them. Danny prides himself in a strong stomach; he has to stomach it all, given the amount of gore and decay he brings upon the survivors on a daily basis. Yet, reflecting on the last trial, bile rises up in his throat, and he has to force it down. Puke inside the get up would be less than ideal.

Caleb clicks his jaw back into place, startling Danny back into reality. He looks upwards, noting that the cowboy had sat next to him, shoulders brushing dangerously close to Danny’s. Neither of the men say anything, opting to stare ahead at the campfire instead. For a fleeting moment, Danny wonders if Caleb would be into blowing off some steam, so to speak. It’s not uncommon for some of the killers to find solace in one another, through whatever means possible. Some, like Anna and Sally, are entirely exclusive, keeping to their own when it comes to having sex. As for Danny, he tends to sleep around, as do some of the others. Sure, he doesn’t actively seek others out for companionship, but sex is an entirely different game. A way to pass the time, or to remember what these human interactions even feel like.

 _‘God, have I really gotten to this point?’_ Danny thinks, a scowl hidden behind the mask. He remembers a time where he had been reluctant to even entertain the idea of fucking anyone other than them.

_Them._

The ache returns and Danny sighs, making a move to stand. He doesn’t get far, as Caleb tugs on Danny’s wrist, a silent word passing between the two of them.

_Stay._

Danny observes Caleb’s face, trying to get a read on the man. Sunken eyes simply stare back, offering nothing in return but a certain tiredness that Danny recognizes instantly. It’s the same kind of tiredness he sees when he sees his bare face in the cracked edges of the mirror in the guest room of the Lodge. Despite the otherwise blank look Caleb wears, Danny feels a connection to this once bounty hunter, as if he understands what it means to simply just be exhausted. Exhausted of having no free will, exhausted of the world treating you like shit, and exhausted of simply being.

No words pass between the two of them as Danny crouches down to the dirt, Caleb shifting to move behind him. Despite knowing that this isn’t Michael, Danny already has his face pressed in the dirt, thankful that Caleb hadn’t asked for the mask's removal. It’s happened before, with others, and each time, Danny refuses. He wonders if he’ll ever show his face to the others, or if he’ll continue his oath to himself. He wonders if the promise even matters anymore, as the one person he’s ever shown his face to is now present within the realms.

Danny’s thoughts come to a halt as a moan leaves his lips, and Caleb stutters for a moment, his hips flush against Danny’s back side. He stays still a moment, his fingers digging tightly into Danny’s hips.

 _‘It must be his first time in a long time.’_ Danny thinks, focusing on his breathing. One deep breath in, and one deep breath out. Danny takes this pause to glance back at Caleb, doing his best to convey what he is trying to communicate.

_Take your time. I’m in no rush._

Caleb sighs and the pause is over. He draws back and rocks back forward again, setting a steady pace. Not too fast, yet not too slow. Danny’s not sure if Caleb’s simply being considerate or if it really has been that long for him. Despite his loner persona, Danny practically fucks or is fucked every day, if not every time out of a trial. Time is hard to tell within the realms, and he had given up trying to make sense of it long ago.

Caleb picks up speed, the sound of skin on skin resonating and Danny slips into his thoughts once more, allowing his body to take over for the time being. Despite his best efforts, his thoughts center on them once more, the terrified look on their face before being taken by the Entity. He tries to remember a happier time, a time where they had been full of joy and life, not fear and death. Yet, the more Danny strains to remember them before the realms, the harder it is for him to picture their face without horror, without blood and gore all around them. With a startle, Danny realizes that the memories he once had, the memories he had cherished and loved beyond himself, beyond even them, were nowhere to be found, drifting away like feathers on the wind. These memories Danny once held dearly didn’t even belong to him anymore; no, he realizes that the Entity really does own all that he is and all that he has.

Caleb finishes with a strained grunt, quickly pulling out to avoid making a mess. It’s a simple gesture, but Danny appreciates it nevertheless; it shows a surprising amount of care, an amount of care Danny hasn’t witnessed in a long, long while. Caleb zips up his pants with Danny following suit, smoothing down the robe of the Ghostface back over his thighs and backside. Caleb says something, something that falls deaf on Danny’s ears. It’s always the same anyway; probably just a ‘thanks’ or something of the like. Danny offers a non committal hand wave in response, turning from the fire and towards the woods, towards wherever he could find.

Danny’s glad the mask had remained on; he’s glad that Caleb couldn’t see his tears.


	4. I Fall To Pieces(When I'm With You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet, despite the sweet sentiments, Danny knows that his relationship with them isn’t normal, at least on his behalf. He knows that most best friends don’t obsess over their own friend to the point of scaring off anyone who came too close, regardless of their intentions. He knows it’s not normal to have a get up for sneaking out at night to go to their home, without them even knowing. He knows it’s not normal to press your face against the glass of their bedroom window, watching as they sleep, a gloved hand creeping down your stomach and towards your pants as you continue to stare at their resting form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So anyway, Danny started simping--  
> But seriously, thank you so much for reading! This chapter was a blast to write and I hope you enjoy :)

Danny is eighteen years old, and he’s livid. He makes sure to keep his eyes locked on Travis, relishing the way the boy continues to nervously avoid his gaze. He can’t stop the slight smirk that creeps onto his lips as he leans against his truck, impatiently drumming his fingers along the hood. They were supposed to have left half an hour ago, but Travis had insisted upon catching up. Danny is more than aware of his intentions, but with him near, Travis wouldn’t dream of pulling anything. With the Senior Prom coming up, Danny practically hangs around them like a bad smell, metaphorically baring fangs at any suitor who wanders too close. 

Despite Danny’s scalding glare, they continue to speak with him, most likely discussing the upcoming project the two of them have to work on. Travis does his best to keep the conversation flowing, but Danny can tell it’s getting more difficult for him to do so, especially with Danny’s murderous gaze.

Finally, Travis excuses himself, booking towards his bike as they awkwardly wave, shaking their head as they head back towards Danny. All hostility washes off instantly as a wide smile parts Danny’s face.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Danny slides against them to get to the passenger door, goosebumps rising along his arm at the brief contact. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door wide, ushering them in as they laugh.

“What are you getting at, Danny? Trying to butter me up or something?”

 _‘Aren’t I always?’_ He thinks to himself as he offers a wink, gently shutting the door before heading to the driver’s side, clumsily climbing into the seat.

“Can’t I just be chivalrous to my best pal? What has this country come to?” He sighs dramatically, shifting the car into reverse. The comment earns a simple snort and a swat to the shoulder. Placing his hand on the back of the passenger seat, he turns his head to look out the rear window, effortlessly exiting the parking spot. Satisfied, he shifts into drive, heading towards the main street.

Danny sneaks a glance over at them, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. Despite the initial annoyance of having stayed much later than usual, he’s glad that Travis had taken so long. The late afternoon sun sleepily rests on the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over their face, bathing them in golden hues. They’re staring out the window, a pout formed not out of disappointment, but rather due to the palm of their hand resting against their cheek, pressing their lips forward. It’s in this moment that Danny’s goals, his very own schemes and dreams all revolve around this one person, this one constant sun in his otherwise dark life.

“Keep your eyes on the road, man,” they snicker, “I’d hate to die with that goofy look on your face being the last thing I ever see.”

Just like that, Danny is grounded, and he scoffs, playfully flicking the tip of their nose. 

“You say that now, but my beautiful face will probably be the last thing you ever see.”

They raise their eyebrows at this, an unreadable look crossing their face.

_Shit._

“Is that a threat, Johnson?”

Danny scrambles a moment, grasping for any form of recovery.

“I mean, I know I would want you to be the last thing I ever saw before..you know.”

_Nice save?_

They roll their eyes, covering their face and turning it to the side. ‘Is that a blush?’ Danny blinks, a smug smirk threatening to emerge.

“What a romantic. Couldn’t you have started with flowers or something?”

Danny widens his eyes at this, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Flowers..of course, he knows their favorite kind, but still, that was supposed to be later, or perhaps even never. Danny may be a prideful boy, but he wouldn’t want to force them to like him back or anything. He’s content enough to simply be a rock in their life, much like they were in his own. Yet, despite the sweet sentiments, Danny knows that his relationship with them isn’t normal, at least on his behalf. He knows that most best friends don’t obsess over their own friend to the point of scaring off anyone who came too close, regardless of their intentions. He knows it’s not normal to have a get up for sneaking out at night to go to their home, without them even knowing. He knows it’s not normal to press your face against the glass of their bedroom window, watching as they sleep, a gloved hand creeping down your stomach and towards your pants as you continue to stare at their resting form. 

“I don’t know...don’t you have Travis or something?” Danny knows that despite the suggestion, he’d never let that boy near them if he could help it. 

They wrinkle their nose at this.

“Travis? Ugh, too uptight. He’s totally the type to place me on a pedestal and honestly, I don’t need anyone worshiping me. He also seems like the stalker type, so I’ll pass.”

Danny’s stomach twists at the admittance, a frown tugging at his lips. He should feel relieved, yet, the characteristics they had appointed Travis were the ones he portrays, even if they weren’t aware of it. He feels ashamed, yet not enough to cease the behavior.

The two pull up into Danny’s garage, pausing a moment as he turns the ignition, the car shutting off with a sigh. Silence ensues, and while not awkward, some form of tension fills the air.

“Is your mom home?” They ask, pressing the button to the garage closed, the metal door clambering to a shut. The room is covered in darkness, their form merely a shadow now. Danny throws a curious look at them, raising an eyebrow.

“No? She works until 9:00 on Wednesdays, you know this.”

A groan in response. 

“You really can be dense, Johnson.”

Danny opens his mouth to protest but is cut off by a noise of surprise as they place their hand on his thigh, leaning close into him. Despite the darkness, Danny can feel their breath fan over his lips, their nose slightly rubbing against his own. He gulps, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his head. Had this been any other person(which it wouldn’t have been) Danny would have provided some smart ass remark, or perhaps even a vaguely dirty comment on the lewdness of the situation. Yet, with them, Danny’s tongue is tied, and he can only manage a stutter.

“What’re you doing?”

They splay their hands over his chest, pushing down the varsity jacket from his shoulders. Danny shivers, despite the car still being warm from the heater. He parts his lips, searching for something, anything to say yet they beat him to it.

“Danny, do you think we could ever be more than this?” They whisper, resting their cheek against his chest, running their hands along his arms. It’s a familiar scene, as there had been times where they had craved the comfort of another, and although Danny wouldn’t admit to it akoud, he craved it as well. Still, this instance is different, and a more intimate, dangerous aura lingers in the air, threatening to swallow Danny whole.

He gulps, “Honestly? I think about it more than I probably should.” A sigh in response. Danny’s not sure whether or not to continue and as he’s about to add more, their lips cut him off, a quick and chaste kiss pressed to his own. His initial surprise melts into a moan as he leans into them, raising his hand to the back of their neck, running his thumb along their pulse. He feels the steady thrum and he wonders if they can feel his own erratic heartbeat; he swears he’s going to burst at the seams with them like this. 

They release his lips and Danny chases after them for a moment, wrapping his spare arm around their waist, squeezing lovingly at their flesh. He’s dazed and despite the darkness of the garage, he can see the slightest gleam to their smile. They hum and with one final peck to the corner of his mouth, they sink down, placing their hands on Danny’s thighs. He shudders, trailing his fingers along the crown of their head.

“You don’t have to--” He begins to say before he yelps, their fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans, popping the button open and slowly sliding them down. He can practically hear them roll their eyes.

“I want to do it, dumbass. Now shut up and let me suck your dick.”

Danny’s not quite sure how to react to the brashness of the statement, but he doesn’t have much time to think too hard on it, as a low moan escapes his mouth when they wrap a hand around the base, giving him an experimental pump. Danny bucks his hips before stopping with a shiver, biting his lip as he digs a hand into their hair. 

Seemingly satisfied with his reaction, they shift their hand upwards again, earning a whimper from Danny. They move their face downwards, pressing a kitten lick to the tip. Danny stutters, a low whine emitting from his throat. He’s almost ashamed; ashamed of how little it takes for them to rile him up. 

They take him into his mouth, and Danny sees stars. Drool spills over his lips, traveling down his chin as he pants, a tremor running along his spine. He’s fantasized about this moment for years, yet none of those dreams had come close to what he was feeling now. The fact that they’re here, right now, knelt between his legs in his shitty pick up has him thanking every being in existence. Yet, once they move, Danny’s a mess. He pants hard, gripping onto their hair like a lifeline, sweat beading down the side of his head. He knows he’s not going to last long, not like this. He tries to communicate, tries to tell them that he’s going to burst. It comes out as gibberish and despite this, they keep going, increasing their speed. 

_‘Fucker. They know.’_ He bites his cheek, drawing blood. 

Danny comes with a growl, tugging on their locks as he spills into their mouth, exhaustion seeping into his muscle once he finishes. He opens his mouth to apologize, to say something when he hears them move, a lazy lick along the underside of his dick. His eyes are fully adjusted, and he meets their eyes.

They swallow. 

The sight makes Danny’s mouth go dry and he releases their hair, shyness beginning to creep in. He makes a move to help them up but they’re back in the passenger seat, gathering their things before they open the door, the light turning on. They smirk at Danny.

“Well, ain’t you a sight, Johnson.”

Danny blinks, his cheeks flushed as he pulls his pants back up, grabbing his backpack in one swift motion.

“Shut up. Let’s just get inside, ok? I intend to return the favor, you know.”

He can’t help but smile at the look on their face.


	5. Torn at the Seams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He remembers the way they had looked at him, as if they could never imagine life without him. He could’ve died happy then; he would’ve died for them to keep looking at him like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not only is Danny a simp, but he's also somewhat of a cuck! Wrow!

Danny’s mind is scattered, a mess when he brings the knife onto the survivor’s back, her scream of pain falling deaf on his ears as he goes through the motions, goes through the script. He lifts her up on his shoulder, heading towards a nearby hook. He ignores the way she struggles, the way she kicks and beats upon him, desperate to escape his hold. Despite the inner turmoil rampaging in his head, Danny makes a note to thank Evan later for teaching him how to have a grasp on the survivors in a way that makes escape practically impossible. He arrives at the hook and in one fluid motion, he lifts her onto the metal, the point tearing through her shoulder like paper. Her wail startles the nearby crows, the birds taking off in a heartbeat as she sobs on the hook, touching the wound gingerly. Danny takes a step back, observing her. He realizes that this is Nancy, a somewhat new survivor to the realms. Funnily enough, he found her quite cute, and he feels a bit guilty at the thought. Whether or not it’s out of his loyalty to them or because he still hooked her when he found her attractive, he’s not quite sure.

“Does it hurt?” The question leaves before he’s able to stop himself. Nancy gives him an incredulous look, her cries ceasing for a moment.

“What do you think?” She hiccups, “Of course it hurts. I’m being impaled by a meat hook and left dangling.”

Danny turns his head to the side, “Well, I wouldn’t know.”

Nancy shakes her head at this. Silence falls between the two for a moment, yet in a brief burst of confidence, or perhaps loneliness, Danny speaks.

“You’re Nancy, right? You came with..Steve and the dog, right?”

She blinks, “Yeah..and by dog you mean the Demogorgon?”

Danny shrugs, “Yeah, whatever. But, you’re still kind of new here, right? Do you...do you remember life from before? Before,” He gestures towards the surrounding area, “all of this?”

Nancy purses her lips, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Danny observes the way her brows knit, the way her eyes cast downwards as she ponders the question. Danny does find her to be beautiful, and the thought brings immeasurable guilt. He casts his eyes towards the Yamaoka Estate, desperate to look anywhere besides this pretty girl.

“I do, bits and pieces. If I think about it too hard, the memories slip away,” Nancy whispers, her hand rising to poke at the metal sticking out of her shoulder, “What I do know, is that I miss home terribly, wherever it may be.”

Danny snaps his head back towards her, his eyes widening behind the mask. Her admittal has Danny’s head spinning, and it has him relieved; relieved that he’s not the only one struggling, that others are having their memories taken away from them as well. Danny had never wanted to remove someone from the hook so badly and the ability not to has him frowning, looking everywhere but at her.

“Oh, it’s here,” Nancy whispers as the Entity’s claws descend, hungirly reaching towards her, “Could you do me a favor?”

Danny glances up at her, “What is it?”

“Could you,” she swallows, a sob bubbling up, “Could you hold my hand? I don’t want to be alone this time.”

Danny knows he shouldn’t, knows he should step away and not look back. He shifts to her side and lifts his hand, watching the way her smaller hand threads through his fingers, giving it a tight squeeze. He’s not sure if it’s for him or for her; perhaps it’s both.

The Entity descends closer, it’s tendril reaching towards the survivor. A thought crosses Danny’s mind.

“You can still fight. You don’t have to give up yet.”

Nancy laughs at this.

“You don’t get it. I’m so tired. I don’t want to fight right now. There’s always another trial, another death. It’s pointless.”

Danny says nothing as he watches the tendril rear back, Nancy squeezing his hand tightly.

“Hawkins.” 

Danny looks at her. “What?”

The Entity shoots forward, impaling her stomach. Her hand stays within Danny’s, desperate for any semblance of human contact.

“Hawkins, Indiana. That’s where I'm from.”

Nancy’s gone in the next moment, her eyes growing dark as her hand loosens in Danny’s. He doesn’t let go until she’s moved upwards, his hand falling to his side as he watches the Entity retreat with the corpse. He doesn’t wait for the darkness to take him this time. He heads towards the Killer Campfire, a slight hunch in his posture. His feet drag along the ground and tired, he removes the Ghostface mask, disheveling his hair in the process. It feels odd not having the plastic clinging to his face, but he welcomes the fresh air with a deep breath, closing his eyes.

A snap sounds off in the distance and Danny’s eyes shoot open, his head turned towards the source of the sound. Hushed voices rise over the fog, and curious, Danny draws closer, darting from tree to tree to keep hidden. Once close enough, he peeks out from behind a tree, observing the scene before him. He watches David whisper to another, someone Danny can’t quite see as David corners them against the tree, bringing his head down towards their mouth. Danny knows he should leave, that he should stalk back towards the fire or elsewhere, somewhere that is not here. Yet, curiosity floods his senses and he finds himself drawing closer, stopping behind a large boulder, only a few feet away from the survivors. The itch to take pictures has him drawing his camera out, focusing the lens onto the duo. Danny quietly snaps the pictures, watching the two practically devour each other. The sight has Danny quietly gagging to himself.

David releases the survivor’s lips and after saying something, something that Danny couldn’t quite catch, he descends. The survivor’s face comes into view through the lens and Danny recoils back as if he had been shot. 

_ Them. _

Danny watches them sigh as David pulls their jeans down, spreading their legs slightly as he brings his face closer, giving them a few teasing licks. They gasp and despite the queasiness, despite the sick feeling, Danny zooms in on their face, focusing in on their features before taking the picture. He lowers the camera and stares from behind the rock, fighting down the urge to shank David then and there. He knows it’s against the rules, that outside of the trials, killer and survivor have to play nice. The time for harm comes within the trials, and Danny places David in the indefinite ‘Mori Immediately’ list. 

David must have done something right as they cry out, grabbing onto his hair and tugging at the strands. Phantom grasps at Danny’s hair has him breathless, color rising to his cheeks as he pushes the tunic up a ways, unbuckling his belt and unzipping the front of his pants. He wraps a hand around the base of his dick, pumping along it slowly. He keeps his eyes on their face, their expression as he pointedly ignores David’s presence all together. He thinks back to that evening ages ago, where there hadn’t been a care in the world save for the Senior Homecoming and Mom accidentally walking in on them. He remembers the way they had mewled and cried his name, how they had gripped so hard onto his bicep that blood had been drawn, how the sight of the crimson had spurred him on. He remembers finishing and how radiant they had looked covered in his cum, how breathless he had been when he had seen the scratches littering along his back and arms from their hands. He remembers the way they had looked at him, as if they could never imagine life without him. He could’ve died happy then; he would’ve died for them to keep looking at him like that. 

Danny bites into the collar of his robe, stifling his cry as he spills over his knuckles, his hand slowing as he coaxes the fluids out. He pants hard, drool dampening the fabric as he leans against the rock, sweat coating his forehead. He turns his head towards the duo, his eyes darkening as he watches David continue his ministrations, watching the way they shiver and tremble at his touch. Their expression is nothing akin to the look they had given him that night, and despite the heartache of the situation, it brings Danny some comfort, even if fleeting. 

Miserable and covered in cum, Danny pulls his pants back up, not bothering to clean up as he readjusts his get up, shifting the Ghostface mask back into place as he slinks away from the area, casting one final, longing look over his shoulder before melting into the shadows, making the trek back towards the campfire. 


	6. Exhale Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He remembers Dad raising his hand to strike, and Mom backing up rapidly, desperate to escape the hit. He remembers rushing in, nailing Dad in the face with the bat, a sickening crack escaping the father’s nose upon contact. He remembers Mom crying and grabbing Danny, practically carrying him out to the car, tires screeching out of the driveway, heading towards god knows where. He remembers seeing the drops of blood on his hands and how he wished there were more. 
> 
> Danny remembers wanting to kill Dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will eventually move on from the teenager shenanigans, I promise. It's just so fun to write!  
> Also I missed Mom, so I brought her back. I really like writing for her :,)  
> I'm gonna try and update regularly but we'll see how well that works.

Danny sleepily lifts his head when Mom rubs his back, softly smiling down at him.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?” Mom asks, brushing some hair out of Danny’s eyes as he comes more to his senses, stretching out his legs. He nods, shifting to get comfortable once again.

“What time is it?”

“5:30...in the afternoon.” Mom laughs, playfully flicking his nose as she strolls back to the kitchen, retrieving something from the oven and placing it on the counter, kicking the oven door closed as she removes the mitts. She drifts around the kitchen, Danny lazily watching the top of her head as she retrieves various items from the cupboards before finally settling in front of the dish from the oven.

“Were you up late studying?” Mom says, focusing on her task at hand. Danny immediately responds, confirming her statement. It may not have been for his Biology exam, but Danny had been studying Travis’ routine, particularly, when it came to interacting with them, especially when Danny wasn’t around. He remembers sneaking up to the window, slowly inching it upwards before slinking inside of the room, taking a look through Travis’ things. He remembers the rage at seeing the two tickets to prom, and how he had snatched them instantly, leaving the room as if he had never been there in the first place. He remembers how panicked Travis had been in Pre-Calc, how he had tore his backpack apart searching for the pieces of paper. Danny thought himself to be a ghost, and it brings a cocky smile to his face as he feels the tickets in his jacket pocket, wrapping a tight fist around the paper.

“Well, I’m glad you’re taking your school work seriously. I’m really proud of you, Danny.” Mom admits, smiling over at Danny. Danny’s taken aback a moment; he may be used to hearing such praise from Mom, but regardless, he can’t help but feel a swell of pride for being able to make Mom proud for doing something as simple as preparing for a test. He wonders if she would hold the same pride for his other, more sinister studies. He wonders if she would comment on how silent he could be, or perhaps how careful, how delicate he was when in another’s room, moving around like a unseen phantom. 

Danny swallows, licking his lips, “Thanks, mom. That means a lot.”

Mom hums in response. 

Danny flips onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he plays with the fringe of the pillow, running his fingers along the surface and gripping down on the softness. He’s reminded of the fabric he had held tightly against his face, desperate to conceal his groans as they experimentally rolled their hips against his own, a soft sigh escaping their lips as they leaned forward, gently prying his fingers from the pillow. Danny was sure he looked a mess, and despite the embarrassment of being wound up by the barest of contact, he couldn’t help but keep his eyes locked on them, his breath falling in gulping heaves as every move, every shift they made rubbed in the most delicious way. He remembers them leaning in, tucking their head underneath his chin as they littered his throat in tender kisses with the occasional nip here and there. He remembers how dreamily they had whispered his name, how delicate their touch was against his feverish skin. He remembers saying that he was feeling as if he was about to burst, and how ,surely, they would burn along with him. He remembers them admitting that they wouldn’t mind; that to go up into flames with him would be a noble death.

Danny’s blinks, slowly drifting back into reality when Mom calls his name, beckoning him to the kitchen. With a fluid motion, he’s on his feet, tossing the pillow onto the corner of the couch before making his way towards Mom. Once in the kitchen, he pauses, staring at the cake placed before him. He raises an eyebrow at Mom. 

Mom simply frowns. “It’s the anniversary of us coming here.”

Danny remembers instantaneously and guilt floods his system. 

“Oh,” he says, turning his attention back towards the dessert, “Right. Sorry, I forgot.”

 _‘That explains the weird moodiness I’ve been feeling this past week.’_ Danny thinks to himself, picking at his fingernails. Despite life having been changed for the better, he can’t help but remember the fight all too well. He remembers Dad raising his hand to strike, and Mom backing up rapidly, desperate to escape the hit. He remembers rushing in, nailing Dad in the face with the bat, a sickening crack escaping the father’s nose upon contact. He remembers Mom crying and grabbing Danny, practically carrying him out to the car, tires screeching out of the driveway, heading towards god knows where. He remembers seeing the drops of blood on his hands and how he wished there were more. 

Danny remembers wanting to kill Dad. 

Mom squeezes Danny’s arm, resting her head against his shoulder as they stand there for a moment, staring at the pastry before them. It’s a nice moment between a mother and her son; it’s a moment of shared trauma and unspeakable actions. 

“Well, let’s dig in, huh?” Mom smiles, giving Danny’s arm one last squeeze before releasing him, moving to cut the cake. “I spent a lot of time on this, so you better enjoy it.”

Danny laughs, offering a plate to Mom, who happily supplies him with a slice. 

The family eat their dessert together, no words spoken yet a feeling of acknowledgment and reverence of the events that had led up to them ending up here. 

\---

“Johnson.”

It’s barely audible yet Danny’s at the window in a heartbeat, opening the screen before offering them a hand. They accept his assistance and he’s pulling them in, his hands already wandering to their waist in a desperate attempt to bring them closer. 

“You act as if you haven’t seen me in ages. I was literally here hours ago.” They laugh, fondly patting Danny’s cheek. He leans into the contact, briefly closing his eyes as he sinks into their skin, wanting to melt into them. He’s painfully aware of how pathetic this must appear to them, but he can’t help himself. 

“You know me. I’ve got abandonment issues.” He sighs, backing up towards the bed before unceremoniously falling upon it, bringing them down with him. They crash onto his chest and despite the wind being knocked out of him for a moment, Danny brings them in close, pressing his face against their hair. He takes an experimental sniff and smiles. 

“You used the strawberry shampoo?”

Embarrassed at being caught, they flick his nose.

“I remember you said that you liked this one. Not to mention, I must’ve used up the other one. I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

Danny can’t help but inwardly smirk. He had been the one responsible for disposing that god awful ‘Sea Breeze’ scent. The fact that they believed to have used it all has him satisfied in that he had carried out his mission successfully. 

“What’re you grinning about?” They ask, running a free hand through his tousled locks, curling their fingers in and out of the dark strands. Danny practically purrs at the contact, his eyes fluttering closed.

“You.” He answers expertly, and the remark earns a flustered ‘shut up’ and a swat to the shoulder. He laughs softly, burying his face into their chest, marveling at the softness. If he were to have his way, he’d throw out all his pillows just to have them as his own comforter. Despite the lovey dovey mood he’s in, Danny trails a hand down their stomach, the task proving difficult as they were still pressed up against him. He persists and he snakes his way into their pajama bottoms, pausing at the elastic band of their underwear. He feels them shiver, moving to lean away from him but he keeps them there, his face still pushed flush against their chest. He gives a teasing bite to their sternum, rolling the skin in between his teeth as they moan quietly, tugging on his hair more fervently. Purple blossom beneath his lips and satisfied with the mark, he releases the skin, giving the bruise a kitten lick. They whine, pressing their hips against his hand, desperate for any semblance of contact. Danny palms his hand against their clothed heat, earning a groan and a buck in response, sweat beading down their forehead. 

“Fuck, Danny,” they pant, gripping onto his shoulders with shaky hands, “you gonna actually get on with it or do I have to do everything myself?”

Danny cranes his neck upwards to lovingly nibble on their bottom lip, a mischievous glint in his eyes as they sigh, their tongue darting out to lick at his lips. 

“So impatient. It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far, really.” He teases, slipping his fingers underneath their underwear, rubbing at the warmth collected on their groin. A shuddery moan escapes their lips as they press kisses along the top of Danny’s head, fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders. He’d be lying if he complained about the pain; if anything, the digging into his skin has him seeing stars, and for a moment, he’s shivering. He increases his pace with his fingers, enjoying the way they cry at each movement. He abruptly stops and before they can protest, he has them laying against the headboard as he hastily removes his sweatpants, kicking the garments to the side before nestling between their legs, teasingly rubbing his tip against their entrance. They growl, intertwining their fingers with his.

“Enough with the theatrics, Johnson. Just fuck me already.”

Danny doesn’t need to be told twice as he presses forward, his cock disappearing into them as they both shudder. For Danny, each time always feels like the first, and he has to remind themself that this is real, and not a dream he’s been having since god knows when. He has to remind himself to move. 

Danny pulls back and almost exits entirely before pressing forward again, connecting with their hips once more as he repeats the process, each thrust more tight and warm then the one before. He keeps his hand in theirs, offering comforting squeezes here and there whenever he could. He watches the way their eyebrows furrow inwards, how their eyes squeeze shut at each sensation he brings to them. He watches the way their lips part and sighs; he watches the way his name leaves their mouth in a guttural groan. It’s enough to push him over the edge and he quickly escapes, a choked moan leaving his throat as he spills onto their stomach, coating their skin in the warm, white liquid. A sick thought enters Danny’s mind, and it must have translated onto his face, as they raise a hand to his cheek, caressing the skin there. 

“Something the matter?”

Danny shakes his head, boxing up the thought for storage; a thought to be considered at a much, much later date. He ushers them out of bed and towards the bathroom, insistent upon cleaning them up. As he brings the cloth down onto their warm skin, he observes the way the cum washes off easily, how in a matter of minutes, evidence of it ever being present has vanished; how no one would know any better should they have been given a passing glance.

Danny wonders if the same could be said for blood.


	7. A Much Needed Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He grows quiet when he reaches what he calls ‘the point of no return’. He describes the look on their face, and how they had looked at him as if he were an entirely different person. He supposes he was; they couldn’t see his face behind the bloodied mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no strength and I added my oc to the story....I hope that's alright! If not, I can rewrite the chapter with a different character instead!  
> But anyways, Danny gets some much needed advice, although, it's still not therapy...

“Oh, it’s you.”

Danny’s surprised to see the Prophet sitting on the ruined couch of the Lodge yet he recovers quickly, swinging his legs over to sit next to them, propping an elbow upon their shoulder. The Prophet simply acknowledges Danny with a slight nod, awkwardly patting down their jeans. The Prophet had been the newest arrival before Kazan, and despite growing accustomed to the realms, they still seemed to be somewhat unsure of their surroundings, which was more than obvious in the way that they interacted with their fellow killers. They were hesitant and submissive, oftentimes fleeing from the more intimidating killers, such as Myers or Kazan. As for the rest of the group, it was more than apparent that the Prophet got along well with the women killers. Danny figures it must be that innocent, lost puppy look about them. Hell, even he was strangely moved into befriending them, teaching them the ropes and rules of the Entity’s realms. He remembers how quickly they had improved, yet one thing always remained the same; their reluctance when it came to the trials. 

“These people have done nothing to me,” they once explained, “I don’t want to hurt people who have not wronged me.”

Danny had made sure to drive home the point of the trials. “It doesn’t matter if they did nothing to us,” he had said, “All that matters is keeping the Entity pleased. And believe me, you want to make sure you stay in its good graces.”

They didn’t say more on the subject afterwards.

“So, what’re you doing here, Proph?” Danny asks, removing his elbow to lean back against the cushions, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. The Prophet appears to consider his question for a moment, their expression hidden beneath the mourning mask. Danny is more than aware of what they had done before coming to the realms; hell, he remembers reading all about it in the newspaper in ‘87. At the recollection of the paper, Danny frowns, as he can’t quite remember the Prophet’s real name; then again, he supposes it doesn’t matter. They only know him as Ghostface.

The Prophet finally answers, “I guess I just wanted to see you.”

Danny’s taken aback by their answer, blinking owlishly behind his mask. The Prophet is known to be shy, as they mostly stuck to their own realm over at Hope’s Hollow. Then again, the place is pretty miserable, and Danny would definitely have grown sick of seeing paintings of Jesus Christ at every twist and turn.

“I’m touched, really.” The words feel real, yet, Danny persists, “But that’s not all, is there?”

A blush creeps up their neck, and had Danny not been paying attention, he would have missed it. The fact that he has caught them flustered has him grinning maniacally.

“Oh, I know. You wanna fuck? I’m more than happy to pop your cork,” Danny drawls, crawling over to the killer. Unable to gauge their reaction, Danny pushes his hands up against their chest, offering a cheeky squeeze to their pecs. He’s leaning over them, ready to hop on when they reach a hand up, wrapping their fingers around his wrist. Surprised, Danny halts his actions, staring down at them. 

“You’re acting strange. What’s wrong?” The Prophet whispers, keeping their mask facing towards Danny, and despite the fact that he can’t see their face, he feels their eyes meeting his. For a brief moment, Danny flares up in anger, a feverish rage rippling along his veins. How dare they stall his advances? He can fuck whoever he wants, when he wants, and yet they have the audacity to worry about him? 

“What’s it to you?” Danny snarls, digging his hands into their chest, wanting them to get on with it as to avoid the seriousness of the question. Danny lowers himself further, dragging his hips over their own, desperate to create some form of friction to get them riled up. They’re tall, always towering over Danny, and he wonders if that sentiment is reflected within the confines of their pants.

The Prophet’s hand tightens around his wrist. “You’re my friend and I care about you.”

Their words cause Danny to pause for a brief moment. He’s never really considered anyone in this wretched place friend; for him, it was those he talked to and those he didn’t. Simple as that. Growing close to anyone in these realms is dangerous, as these relationships could be weaponized against the other, or rather, utilized as fodder for the ever ravenous Entity. 

Danny scoffs, “What did I tell you on the first day? Don’t get attached, it’ll be used against you.” He’s moving again, digging harder into the Prophet’s hips. Danny’s not sure if he’s doing it for himself or for them; perhaps it’s a mixture of both. 

Danny’s not able to continue on much longer, as a swift movement catches his eye. Curious, he looks back up to find the Prophet’s mask discarded, laying on the coffee table as dark, green eyes stare at him. Danny’s speechless as he analyzes the person’s face before him. Soft, tanned skin has Danny thinking that they spent much time in the sun before coming to the realms, a thought that leaves him surprised, as they appear to be anything but the outdoorsy type. A small scar runs down the side of their left eyebrow, stopping right above their eyelid, a clear testament as to some form of abuse. Raven bangs dust their forehead, falling right above their eyes and Danny has to fight the urge to brush them away much like Mom had done with his own hair. The rest of their hair falls to their shoulders in messy waves, as the hairstyle practically screams for a haircut. Their lips are full and pulled into a firm line, as if they don’t have much to smile about. 

“Why?” Danny inwardly groans at the awkwardness of the situation and he leans back, resting fully on the Prophet’s lap. He’s impressed that he doesn’t feel a poking in his lower back and he makes a mental note later to actually pop their cork.

The Prophet turns their head to the side, regarding their mask with an almost sad expression. 

“I’m tired of being just a mask. I want someone to see who I really am, and there’s no one I trust more than you, Ghostface. It was always going to be you.”

The admittal has Danny shivering, a familiar ache crawling into his chest. This scene is too intimate, too much like them and before he knows it, Danny’s back in his room, Dolly Parton’s  _ I Will Always Love You _ playing in the background, the snow falling down in steady beats outside. They’re in his arms, their face tucked into the crook of his neck as the two of them sway, clumsily stepping on the other’s toes yet blissfully content all the same. He remembers them placing their lips against his jaw, trailing teasing little kisses along the bone as they whispered sweet nothings to him.

_ “It’s always going to be you, Danny.” _

Danny’s hands are moving without accord, flying up to his face, pushing back the hood and yanking off the plastic, throwing it to the side, crashing against the wall before meeting the ground below. The itch has been scratched, and now, a gaping wound is left behind as Danny pants hard, dark hair falling into his face as he meets the Prophet’s eyes finally. Chestnut brown stares back at forest green and the two killers say nothing, simply looking at one another, a dozen emotions left raw and open.

The Prophet speaks first. 

“My name is Logan Carter.”

A flood of recognition sparks within Danny’s mind and he nods.

“I remember now. The Hope’s Hollow Massacre of ‘87. You killed over fifteen people. I was 23 at the time.”

Logan appears to be surprised, as they raise their eyebrows. “How did you--?”

“You were in the paper,” Danny explains, “A dozen searches had been conducted to find you, but they never did. Now that I think about it, the survivor that came with you..Anne? She was there too, wasn’t she?”

Danny instantly regrets asking as a quiet, sad look passes over Logan’s face. They turn their gaze towards the fire. “Yeah. She was my best friend before coming here. I don’t think she knows that I’m here though. Then again, that’s probably for the better. If our situation was similar to yours, I think I’d be having the same problems that you’re going through.”

Danny rears his head back, “What--”

“The new survivor. You know them, don’t you?” Logan asks, watching Danny’s face for a reaction. Danny could lie; he could deny these claims and just move on, just as he always had. Yet, that same exhaustion comes crawling back in, much like the tiredness he had seen in Caleb that night. Danny’s tired of hurting, tired of pretending that nothing gets to him, and in a burst of vulnerability, he crumbles. 

“Yes,” Danny sighs, “They’re...they’re someone I’ve known for a long, long time.”

Danny’s succumbing to his thoughts once again, and the words spill from his mouth like vomit. He talks about his father, and how he and Mom had moved to Utah from Florida. He recalls how miserable he had been initially, yet once he had met them, all the pain and anger had seemingly vanished in thin air. The more time he spent with them, the less he thought about the father and the more he thought about them, and how utterly fascinated he was with them. He tells tales of their shenanigans from highschool and onwards, how they had been inseparable, like two peas in a pod. He briefly mentions the nights they had shared together(without divulging too much information), and how these fleeting moments had only made him all the more infatuated. He grows quiet when he reaches what he calls ‘the point of no return’. He describes the look on their face, and how they had looked at him as if he were an entirely different person. He supposes he was; they couldn’t see his face behind the bloodied mask.

Once Danny is finished talking, Logan sits up, shifting Danny over to sit him at their side, offering him a comforting squeeze to his shoulder. Danny, reminded of Mom, leans into the contact.

“What’s your real name?” Logan asks, their voice soft. Danny’s resolve crumbles further as he realizes how lonely he has been this entire time.

“Danny. Danny Johnson.”

Danny’s taken aback by the small smile that graces Logan’s lips.

“You look like a Danny.” Logan says, moving to stand up. They gently secure their mask onto their face, turning towards Danny, offering his as well. Danny accepts it, flexing the plastic beneath his hands. Logan pauses a moment, watching Danny with an unreadable gaze.

“You know, the way you talk about them... you should try and reconnect.” 

Danny smiles sadly and shakes his head.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t think I can face them ever again.”

Logan nods their head in understanding, “Maybe not. Then again, we’re stuck here for who knows how long. You’re allowed some happiness, you know. You should take it where you can.”

Danny takes note in their bitter tone, “And you?”

They turn away from him, heading towards the door, “It’s too late for me. It doesn’t have to be for you.”

Danny’s left alone, gripping the Ghostface mask as the fire continues to burn.


	8. I Will Always Love You {Filler}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny is shivering, shaking from the pressure; this is all too much for him, too much for him to bear. He’s looking into their eyes, looking at the way they look at him, as if they believe he’s going to disappear the moment they look away. He’s lost, intoxicated by their presence alone and he knows he should back away now, that he should burn this bridge and never look back. He sees this person, this person who means everything to him, and he’s forgetting how to breathe again. He’s drowning in love and he’s not sure if he even wants to come up for air; he would gladly succumb to death should they will it. Even more so, he would kill for them should they ask; he would tear limbs apart and rip out throats should they dream of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Chapters in one day? Wow!  
> This is more of a filler chapter then anything. It's just sap pretty much.  
> Also inspired by a mutual and I's conversation. You know who you are :)

“Do you have anything better?” Danny scoffs, shuffling through their pile of records as they throw a pillow at his head, the boy narrowly missing the attack by moving his head to the side. 

“Friends don’t make fun of each other's music tastes.” They frown, leaning over the side of their bed to look over Danny’s shoulder. 

“You’re right. Best friends do though.”

Danny can’t stop the smirk that creeps in as they smack his shoulder, softly muttering ‘asshole’ under their breath before they fall back onto their bed, pressing their feet against Danny’s back. He doesn’t mind the contact, rather, he craves it, and he finds himself pressing back against their legs.

“Just hurry up. I don’t know if I can listen to your voice much longer.” they tease, nudging Danny’s back with their foot. He shakes his head, flicking through record after record, quickly reading the cover before moving on. If he were being honest, he’s not quite sure what he’s searching for, but as long as they keep close to him like this, he’ll spend all night searching for that one record.

“Oh, what’s this?” Danny brings the cover out of the box, running his fingers along the front. The smiling face of Dolly Parton beams up at him, the words “ _ I Will Always Love You _ ” covering the top half. He knows the song, intimately, given that it had been the song Mom had sung to him as a kid; the one that had brought him comfort and safety in an otherwise dark and scary world. He knows they know this, and he turns to them, raising the album in question for them to see.

“You have this?”

Danny watches the way they avert their eyes, opting to look at their ceiling instead of at him.

“I mean, yeah. I remember you saying that you loved the song and I saw it at the store. It was meant to be a birthday gift. Guess it’s not anymore.” They explain, a slight blush creeping along their cheeks, seemingly embarrassed at Danny’s scrutiny. Danny, in turn, could only stare at them, an overwhelming sense of adoration flooding him. The gesture is so kind, so thoughtful that Danny can’t help but clutch the record just a little closer.

“Don’t make it a big deal or anything cause it’s not---” They’re cut off by Danny wrapping them up in a hug, pressing his face into their shoulder, biting down the sob that threatens to spill from his lips. He feels the way they fall slack in his arms, and how they immediately wrap their arms around his torso, squeezing back. A thought crosses Danny’s mind and he pulls away, reluctantly, and he heads towards the record player, fishing the record out of the case before gently placing it on, shifting the belt onto the record. The melody starts to play and Danny turns back towards them, offering them a hand. 

“Dance with me.” 

They seem to be taken aback, their eyes widening as they blink up at him.

“I don’t know how.”

Danny smiles sheepishly. “I don’t either. I’m sure we can figure it out.”

They laugh and shake their head, yet they accept Danny’s outstretched hand, threading their fingers through his as they stand, bringing their hand to rest on his shoulder. Danny hesitantly brings his hand down to their waist, pausing a few inches away, suddenly unsure. They roll their eyes and move his hand to their waist before placing theirs back on his shoulder. 

“You act as if you’ve never touched me before.” They scoff, beginning to sway, bringing Danny along with them. Danny blushes at the phrasing, but he somehow maintains his composure.

“This is different. This feels...dangerous.” He mutters, his hand tightening around theirs as the two drift around the room, the music continuing to swell within the background. 

They frown at Danny’s admittal. “What do you mean?”

Danny is shivering, shaking from the pressure; this is all too much for him, too much for him to bear. He’s looking into their eyes, looking at the way they look at him, as if they believe he’s going to disappear the moment they look away. He’s lost, intoxicated by their presence alone and he knows he should back away now, that he should burn this bridge and never look back. He sees this person, this person who means everything to him, and he’s forgetting how to breathe again. He’s drowning in love and he’s not sure if he even wants to come up for air; he would gladly succumb to death should they will it. Even more so, he would kill for them should they ask; he would tear limbs apart and rip out throats should they dream of it. 

“Danny?” They’re worried now, their eyes searching his, desperate for some form of answer, some form of reassurance. Guilty, Danny presses a chaste kiss to their intertwined fingers.

“Sorry I just zoned out for a moment.”

Their worry increases tenfold, “Are you okay? Do we need to stop? Is there anything--”

Danny’s quick to silence them, a surprised gasp escaping them as Danny takes the opportunity to lazily run his tongue along their bottom lip. They press back into them, molding their face into his as the two come to a slowing stop.

Satisfied, Danny pulls away from the kiss, smiling at the way they lean forward, desperate to chase his lips for even the smallest form of connection.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

They swat his arm playfully, “Yeah right, Johnson. You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily. Now, kiss me again.”

Danny’s more than happy to oblige, and as they drift back towards the bed with him in tow, a single thought crosses Danny’s mind and despite the torment, despite the ache that comes whenever he thinks of these words in a romantic context, he’s happy to admit it to himself in this moment.

_ I love you.  _


	9. Something of a Liar Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He brings his hands to his face, unknowingly streaking the crimson onto his cheeks as he stares ahead, a terrified shiver running along his skin. Seeing the red in a flash from the storm outside, he breathes hard, tearing at the liquid, desperate to scrub off the offending color. Danny begins to cry, soft sobs tumbling from his lips as he continues to paw and scratch at his hands, tears mixing with snot as he panics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babey's first murder! Also, panic attacks are not fun, especially for poor Danny.  
> Also, trigger warning for in depth panic attacks. Stay safe, gang.

Danny’s panicking, short, quick breaths leaving his mouth, a terrified shiver running along the course of his body. He’s curled into himself, pressed into the far corner of the room, his back meeting the plaster with a frigid stiffness that screams discomfort, yet Danny continues to cower, tears leaking from his eyes at a rapid rate. His heart is beating wildly, threatening to burst through his chest, practically hammering against his rib cage. Time appears to slow down, as each glance to the clock shows the same, blinking hour staring back at the disoriented boy. 

2:19 AM

The number never leaves his mind, as it carries over throughout the rest of the day. Mom makes passing, worried comments to Danny, to which he had either shrugged off or simply acknowledged. He knows that this is dangerous, that his noncommittal to answering her concern only sheds more suspicion, and more suspicion leads to dots being connected. He has to answer, quickly, lest she learns of his true source of stress.

“Honey, you look exhausted, did you not sleep well?”

Danny answers expertly, “Yeah, I had a nightmare.”

Mom’s frowning, concern creeping into her eyes as she sets her book to the side, granting Danny all her attention. While the gesture is meant to be one of comfort, Danny can’t help but sweat under her heavy gaze, his mind a raging hurricane of disorientation and gibberish.

_‘She knows, she totally knows.’_

_‘I’m so fucked! Oh my god, everything’s fucked, everything’s so fucked!’_

_‘Stop looking at me! Please, for the love of god, don’t look at me!! Please! Please! PLEASE-!’_

“Danny? Oh my god, Danny!” Mom’s on him in an instant, wrapping her arms tightly around his trembling form, gripping a hand into his hair to ground him. He can’t stop shivering, his teeth chattering and his heart beating erratically, threatening to split right open. He grips hard onto Mom’s back, balling his fists into the back of her shirt, his knuckles taut against the skin of his hand. The tears never stop coming, pouring freely down the boy’s cheeks as he makes choking sounds, a sob wanting to breach but yet not quite able to fully form. 

Mom’s whispering something, something calm and reassuring but Danny can’t hear her. He can’t hear anything. His eyes focus on his hands, fisted into the folds of her shirt. He sees the blood, sees the crimson crawling up the lengths of his arms. 

Danny, terrified, cries harder. 

\---

“Hey.”

Danny lifts his head sluggishly, his eyes half lidded as he watches them close the door behind them, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He takes note on the way they search his face, as if they could miraculously discover the source of his anguish. The thought leaves a bitter taste as he knows that they could never truly solve Danny’s one, true problem. 

He finally answers, “Hey.”

They don’t beat around the bush, “Your mom told me you had a pretty serious episode. Wanna talk about it?”

Danny wants to come clean; he wants to desperately tell the truth as to tear this weight from his chest. Yet, he looks at them, and sees the way that they look at him in that his suffering brings them great pain as well. He watches the way their furrow upwards, a pained expression painted on their face. He wants them to keep worrying about him, and the truth only brings recoil and disgust.

He settles for a lie instead.

“Had a nightmare last night,” Danny croaks, picking at his fingernails, “it was about my dad."

A look of sympathetic understanding crosses their face as they scoot up on the bed, resting their back on the comforter as they draw close to Danny, reaching a hand to gently brush his cheek, sweeping their fingers over his lips and jaw. This simple intimacy of the situation leaves Danny shivering, yet he masks it, opting to lean into the palm of their hand, pressing a small kiss to their wrist. 

“You don’t have to say anything else.” they whisper, tucking their face into Danny’s neck, nuzzling against the hum of his pulse, “You can sleep now, Danny. I’m here.”

A shuddery sigh escapes Danny’s lips as he sinks into the bed, exhaustion creeping into his senses. Comforted by the warmth of their presence, he falls asleep, his cheek pressed against the top of their head.

\---

Danny knows he’s dreaming. 

Yet, the scene is still the same. Rain falls heavily outside, creating a distinct roar against the roof of the home. Thunder booms as well, with the occasional lightning strike flashing in the near distance, creating a brief moment of brightness in the otherwise dark room. The boy sleeps soundly, soft puffs of air escaping his lips as the occasional twitch courses along his body, indicating he was dreaming. 

A window is quietly pushed upwards, the figure crawling into the room with a practiced silence, shutting the window closed behind him. He moves around the room like a phantom, blending in with the shadows as he expertly traverses the walls, his eyes trained on the sleeping boy.

Danny’s at the window, his back pressed against the cold glass as he watches, unmoving as the ghost draws closer, searching night dressers and underneath the bed for scraps of anything that could be stolen. In particular, he’s searching for photos, letters, anything of the like that he deems of that nature. His task is focused, dedicated as he fetches the shoe box towards the back, against the wall. Danny’s closer now, peering over the ghost’s shoulder as he opens the box, an angry tremor shooting along the intruder’s body at the sight. Photos taken of them litter the inside of the cardboard, pictures of them turned away from the camera, glimpses of their smile in the distance. The sight of these makes Danny’s stomach queasy, as they go from the more innocent, cheeky shots at school to the more sinister, loaded photos of them driving home, or walking their dog down the street. Yet, one picture causes the ghost, as well as Danny, to freeze, a heavy tension hanging in the air. Bile rises up in Danny’s throat, and even more so, a frigid, solid rage creeps into his veins. 

Their bare back faces the camera, their hair swept to the side with Danny leaning into their neck, his hand tangled into their hair and the other bracing against the window, a slight fog gathered around his hand print. The photo is a zoomed in shot, yet Danny recognizes their house from anywhere. 

Danny’s still frozen, his eyes trained on the ghost’s back, watching the way the intruder’s hands crumble the photo, a dangerous stiffness to his movements as he glares at the box. Danny opens his mouth, as if to say something, but is cut off by a single word that leaves the bed in a moan.

Their name. 

Danny’s vision is now obscured by two, narrow holes as he stares at the boy, anger coursing along his body in boiling waves. He stands, towering over the sleeping boy and he’s upon him in an instant, his pocket knife pressed against his throat, threatening to cut the skin. Danny grits his teeth, a slight tremor to his movements as he digs his free hand into the boys hair, pushing him hard against the mattress.

“Wake the fuck up.” Danny growls, breaking the skin slightly.

The boy wakes with a start and before he can scream, Danny’s hand is on his mouth, the glove digging hard into the boy’s chin.

“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling,” Danny says, a cool bite to his words, “with this perfect, Mormon boy act, but you’re not fooling me. Stalking and taking pictures of people without them knowing isn’t very Christ-like.”

The boy makes a sound of protest, muffled against Danny’s hand as he squirms, struggling to free himself. Danny presses down harder, making escape virtually impossible. 

“You know, I only had an inkling of what you were up to, and I really, _really_ was hoping that I was wrong. But no, you had to go and fuck it up, huh? Seriously, a shoe box? You’re pathetic.” Danny’s reaching a breaking point and he’s aware he’s stalling, aware of what was going to happen. Yet, the more he looks at him, the more furious he becomes. How dare he, of all people, challenge Danny like this? There was only going to be one, constant man in their life, and by God, it was going to be Danny. He removes the knife from his throat, moving his hand towards his face, towards the mask. 

“It’s nothing personal.” Danny whispers, removing his mask in one, fluid motion. A flash of recognition crosses the boy’s eye and he screams against Danny’s palms, thrashing to get away. A brief, sadistic smile crosses Danny’s face.

“It’s only going to be me. It’s always going to be me.”

Danny slashes Travis’ throat open, blood splattering onto his face as a muffled groan leaves Travis, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He struggles, beating his fists weakly against Danny in a last ditch effort to escape, to somehow make it out of this alive. Danny knows better, knows how delicate Travis' health was to begin with. He's not getting up from this. Travis sinks into the pillow, a final sigh leaving his chest. His eyes stare up at the ceiling as the blood continues to flow freely, staining his shirt and the sheets below.

Danny sits back, and in the sudden realization, throws himself back in horror, pressing himself against the corner. He brings his hands to his face, unknowingly streaking the crimson onto his cheeks as he stares ahead, a terrified shiver running along his skin. Seeing the red in a flash from the storm outside, he breathes hard, tearing at the liquid, desperate to scrub off the offending color. Danny begins to cry, soft sobs tumbling from his lips as he continues to paw and scratch at his hands, tears mixing with snot as he panics.

The clock blinks red at him, the smear altering the appearance yet the time still there, still in sight.

2:19 AM


	10. Sick Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David says something, something faint. Danny frowns, twisting his hand into the man’s hair to lift his face from the concrete. Angry bruises litter David’s face as his right eye is swelled shut, caked blood plastered to the side of his head as fresh crimson flows from his nose, dripping onto the ground below. Pride swells within Danny as he admires his work, a cruel grin hidden behind the GhostFace’s mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interrogation time!!! David's gotta get bullied too, unfortunately.  
> Also, I can't stand it when people write in 'accents' so I'm not doing that for David. Just imagine a British voice or something idk.  
> Sorry about the wait! I swear I'll try and make a actual schedule,,

Danny swears under his breath as he brings the knife down upon David’s back, a thrill of adrenaline shooting along his spine at the shout of pain that escapes David’s mouth. He shoots forward as Danny’s about to strike again, and Danny takes note of that little trick, for later should David escape his grasp once more.

Danny knows that’s not going to happen as he reaches out, the knife slicing upwards as David falls to the ground, clumsily smashing his face into the pavement below. Danny never cared much for Haddonfield, but in this moment, seeing David’s blood cake the sidewalk as his already fucked up nose shifts to a more severe angle, Danny can’t help but silently thank the survivor who had placed this offering.

David groans, pulling himself along the ground before Danny places his foot on the survivor’s bareback, pressing deep into the skin to prevent him from moving. A string of curses falls from David’s lips, clearly directed towards the masked killer. Danny smiles cruelly, digging his boot deeper against the wound, making sure that the dirt and grime presses into the exposed cut. He knows that infection is practically impossible in the realms, but it does make Danny feel better, if even just for a fleeting moment. 

David ceases his movements, short, labored breaths leaving him in quick exhales. Danny figures this is as good as time as any. After all, he left David last for a reason. 

“What’s it with you being shirtless all the time?” Danny asks, leaning against his knee as he observes David’s face, watching the way the British man pointedly avoids looking up, keeping his cheek in the pavement. The question is a genuine one, but seeing the man’s determined silence, Danny decides to cut to the chase. 

The moment their name leaves Danny’s mouth, David’s head is raised, his eyebrows furrowed as he glares up at the Ghostface, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

“How the fuck do you know their name already? They just got here.”

Danny’s surprised at David’s outburst; what he had figured for a player type, David seems to be the opposite. This genuine protectiveness for them has Danny reeling, as he had never expected to be faced with someone who could challenge his place in their affections.

Yet, Danny remembers that it’ll only ever be him, and despite his shame, despite the fact that he knows he doesn’t deserve them, Danny knows one, universal truth.

If he can’t have them, no one else should. 

He reminds himself of his reasoning for this interrogation, and Danny’s focused once more, digging his heel into David’s back. 

“That doesn’t matter. This is a warning. Try and get closer and I will make your trials with me a living nightmare. You think it’s shit already? Trust me, I’ve been nice so far.”

David squirms, bracing his forearm against the sidewalk as he arches his back and Danny falters, caught off guard by David’s stunt. Yet, the image of them comes back, the expression on their face and how he wasn’t the cause of their pleasure. Fury floods Danny’s senses and he stomps his foot against the back of David’s head, slamming the survivor’s face against the concrete once more. A muffled wail leaves David as he weakly pushes back against Danny, yet his strength is gone as he collapses, taking quick, gulping breaths of air. Danny places his full weight against him, reveling in the way David’s shoulders flex beneath his boot. 

“You don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation,” Danny whispers, casually swinging his knife back and forth as he leans in, “When I say stay away from them, I fucking mean it. If I see you even pass a glance at them, I’ll gut you like a fish and wear your intestines as a scarf. Are we clear?”

David says something, something faint. Danny frowns, twisting his hand into the man’s hair to lift his face from the concrete. Angry bruises litter David’s face as his right eye is swelled shut, caked blood plastered to the side of his head as fresh crimson flows from his nose, dripping onto the ground below. Pride swells within Danny as he admires his work, a cruel grin hidden behind the GhostFace’s mask. 

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that, King.” 

David’s glare is so harsh, so cold that for a moment, a shiver runs along Danny’s skin. He has to hand it to David; the guy was pretty intimidating when he wanted to be and Danny can’t help but be impressed. 

“I said fuck you. I’m not scared of you.” David spits, the crimson splattering against the plastic of the mask and a frigid, deep anger settles in Danny as he laughs, swiping at the blood. 

“Congratulations, David. You’ve officially dug yourself your grave. I’ll be looking forward to our next trial together. But until then,” Danny yanks the survivor’s head up, pressing the knife against his throat before slashing it open, the crimson sputtering from David’s neck as he gasps for air, clawing at Danny’s arm before falling slack, a final sigh leaving him in a whisper. Danny shoves the body to the side, wiping the excess blood on his jeans as he takes a step back, towards the street.

“Adieu.”

The darkness washes over Danny and he embraces it, closing his eyes as the lit streets of Haddonfield fade from view. 

\---

“You seem to be in a good mood.” 

Danny cracks an eye open, lazily looking upwards to meet Frank’s eyes. Danny takes a moment to observe the boy’s face, a slight jealousy for Frank's youthfulness. Messy blonde hair pushed back, a dark brown at the roots, a clear sign of a bad hair dye job. The sides of his head are shaved and Danny is reminded of David for a moment, a slight scowl forming on his lips. 

Frank doesn’t seem to notice the scowl and Danny’s thankful for the boy’s more than apparent stupidity. 

Danny closes his eyes again, “What, can’t a guy just be in a good mood?” He kicks his feet onto the coffee table, Joey reprimanding him once more, only for it to fall on deaf ears. Despite the darkness behind his eyelids, Danny can picture the faces of the others clearly, a frown most likely on Joey and Frank with the girls distracted, busy on the other side of the room. Danny can faintly hear them talking among themselves and Logan, who in turn, politely adds onto the conversation when needed. Danny thinks back to a time where masks were always on, where others only were referred to by their ‘killer’ names. He remembers a time where he would have rather been sacrificed on a meat hook than reveal his face. Danny wonders how this change had happened, as he had only intended for Logan to know his name and face. 

“Dude. Answer the fucking question. It’s weird how happy you are.” Frank’s voice breaks through, and Danny can’t help but sigh in annoyance. 

“I had a good trial, okay? Finally got that asshole, David. Made him bleed like a pig.” Danny smiles at the memory, the look on David’s face as the blood gushed from his throat still fresh in his mind. 

“David? What do you have against him?” Joey asks. Danny opens his eyes, aware of the eyes on him, especially Logan’s. He avoids meeting them, all too aware of the look they’re giving him. It’s a look of disappointment, of pity as they continue to stare alongside the rest of the Legion. 

Danny quickly answers, “He’s a douche, always saving others and putting his life on the line. Fucker had it coming.” He’s confident in the answer, and Danny thinks he’s nailed the excuse. 

“Why now, though? You’ve never complained about him before.” Julie says coolly, a suspicious tilt to her voice as the room falls silent, holding its breath. The fury rises once more, and Danny has to remind himself of his place here. This is the Legion’s realm and starting a fight would lose him this sanctuary. Besides, Danny couldn’t deny the slight affection he felt for the teenagers, and losing their friendship would mean having to find new, more serious, allies.

He settles for half of the truth.

“I saw him messing around with a survivor I like. Had to put him in his place, otherwise he might not take it seriously. That a good enough answer?” He ends on a slightly hostile note; it’s not enough to start a fight, but it’s enough to send a message.

_Back off with the questions._

A dull roar settles back as the others quickly fall back into their discussions, leaving Danny alone as he smiles to himself, the giddy rush of killing David ever so high. Yet, once he finally meets Logan’s eyes, he shrinks, quickly leaning back onto the couch to avoid the Prophet’s gaze. Despite no words being said between the two, Logan’s message is clear as day, and Danny can’t help but slightly shudder at the intensity of their stare.

_This isn’t what they'd want._


	11. Something Wretched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, it's been a minute.  
> Tried something new with this chapter. Wanted to try and include both Pre-Entity and present time. Feedback about this change would be appreciated :)

Ragged, violent breaths escape him as he forces the knife downwards, a shrill of excitement running along his skin as the wound squelches, the crimson flowing like a faucet. The girl’s been long dead, her glassy eyes staring upwards as she looks at nothing, her skin cold and hands limp as her murderer continues to mutilate along her body, a sick fascination within each stab, within each twist of the knife. He’s not skilled by any means, but the nausea is sated and the anger is cooled as he leans back, wiping off the blood on his thigh.

Danny’s face is covered, hidden behind the plastic and he feels as if he’s not in his own body. He sees not himself, but rather, the stained plastic of the Ghostface mask stare down at the body, a twitch to his fingers. A dark, cruel thought enters Danny’s mind and he laments over the fact that he didn’t have a camera. He’ll have to invest in one soon.

 _‘At least I’ll see it in a few days,_ ’ Danny thinks to himself as he slips out the bedroom window, _‘This’ll definitely be a headline for a month.’_

Despite the initial panic he had felt when dealing with the aftermath of Travis’ demise, Danny feels more calm, more in control as he heads down the alleyway, peeling off the gloves, shoving them in his back pocket. The mask is next, and he tucks it into his backpack, zipping it up tight. He flexes his fingers, watching the way they crack and curl. It was strange to remember that only a little over a year ago, he had been careless, frantic in covering his tracks. Despite the sloppy job he had done covering up, the crime never fell onto Danny’s shoulders and he adapted, improving with each kill he makes. College came just in time, as the connection between the murders had become more clear. Now, in the big city of Salt Lake City, these murders had been chalked up to an erratic pattern, with no clear connection to the next. Danny intends on keeping it that way.

The moon continues to illuminate the downtown alley, and Danny is able to easily blend within the crowds, offering courteous smiles to those who give him a passing glance. He’s moving with purpose, drifting through the masses as he heads back towards the University, growing giddy at the thought of seeing them again. Despite attending the same school(in which they were pleasantly surprised at the coincidence; in which Danny had been sure to follow them there), Danny wasn’t able to see them as much as he would have liked. Classes can be tedious, and not to mention, there are new people, new faces to know. This isn’t the sleepy town the two of them had conquered; this was wide open territory.

Danny reaches the dorms, a slight skip to his step as he presses the doors open, his eyes landing on them immediately. They’re strewn over the commons couch, half of their body dangling over the arm of the sofa as they stare at the ceiling, a slight sway to their arms. Danny’s heart swells and despite the urge to sneak up on them, he quells the impulse. That itch is for prey, not for them.

“It’s dangerous to be waiting here alone, you know.” Danny sighs, flopping onto them, earning a small ‘hey!’ as he sinks into them, pressing his face into their hair, taking a deep breath in. They shift under him yet Danny doesn’t relent, purring as they struggle to push him off. 

“Yeah like someone is really going to try and abduct me from an active dorm,” they scoff, “also get off of me, you’re heavy.”

Danny emits a dramatic gasp, rolling onto the carpet below as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead.

“Such cruelty! Your words wound me.”

They simply snort, flicking his nose.

\---

Danny’s practiced in his movements, his shoulders forward and his body pressed low as he watches them stare into the fire, a painful nostalgia to the scene. Danny remembers the times at University where he would employ the same tactics against potential victims. He’s crouched, as if ready to strike, and the fact that he’s in this position to observe them leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Applying this to them brings a strange feeling, but he can’t bring himself to stop; can’t bring himself to turn away. 

They straighten their shoulders, a tired tension to their form as they continue to watch the flames before them. Danny’s silently creeping forward, slowly moving closer when they speak, bringing him to a halt.

“I know you’re there, Danny.”

Danny’s uncertain, dumbfounded at their words. He’d done everything right, employed the skills he had perfected for so long, yet they were so easily able to discern his presence. He continues to watch from the shadows, his hands enclosed in a fist. Hearing them say his name after so long brings a shiver along his spine, and he fights the urge to pounce upon them. 

They turn their head to watch him, not able to see his form, but looking directly at him at the same time. Danny shrinks underneath the scrutiny of their gaze, feeling exposed by the intensity of their stare. After a few moments, he emerges, standing at full height as he cautiously steps into the light. His face is hidden, and he can see what appears to be disappointment on their face. Yet, just as he is able to place the reaction, it is gone in an instant, and their face is hardened. 

“Still using that gimmick, huh?” They say slowly, a bite to their words that Danny can’t help but flinch at. Clearly, their first encounter in the realms has left a mark.

“You know me. Once I create something, I beat it to death.” Danny answers. It’s true, as even the costumes the Entity had gifted him had always included the screaming mask in some form or another. 

They scoff turning their face back towards the campfire, as if they couldn’t stand looking at him. Had this been back then, Danny would have been groveling, begging for them to turn their attention onto him. Now, he’s not quite sure how to feel about the hostility. 

“I’m just going to cut to the chase. Why have you been stalking me? You made it pretty clear in that first trial on how you feel about me.”

Danny winces at the memory, winces at the image of the Entity’s tendril shooting through their chest, their cries for both mercy and him being drowned out by the sound of cracking bones and guts squelching. The nausea returns and Danny forces himself to swallow it down.

When he doesn’t answer right away, they stand, facing him fully. Danny keeps his gaze to the floor, pointedly ignoring the pleading look they give him. He doesn’t see the pleading morph into anger and before he can react, he’s on the ground, the air getting knocked out of him. They’re straddling him, their hands wrapped around his throat, their lips pulled back in a snarl.

“Answer me, you fucking asshole! Why won’t you leave me alone?!”

Danny’s response is clear, “Because I love you.”

Despite the cruelty he had shown them, despite the coldness he had given them when they begged for life, the feelings he had for them before the Entity holds true. He craves them, wants them to return to him as they had done so many times before. He thinks of the smile they would give him when returning from a long trip, how they had leaped upon him, wrapping their arms tightly around him, just as he had done with them countless times before. He remembers the joy and affection they had worn and looking at them now, looking at them bare their teeth and tighten their hands around his airway, Danny finds himself loving them even more. 

“This isn’t love!” They growl, a slight quiver to their voice, “This is--this is--”

Danny stares up, watching the tears fall from their face, the droplets hitting his mask and trailing downwards. Their hands never move from his throat, small squeezes here and there as they sob. Killer and survivor remain there, connected through their past yet severed by their present.


	12. We're Not Who We Used to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He watches from the shadows, fingers raw and bloody from gripping into the dirt below.. His mask is discarded, forgotten, and Danny feels naked without it, bare without the ominous Ghostface covering him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. This is going to be officially discontinued, as I unfortunately don’t know where I want this story to go as well as wanting to move onto other, more planned works. The least I can do is offer the final chapter I had planned. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for everything.

He’s close to the ground, crouched behind the tree as he observes the scene before him. A group of four survivors lounge around the campfire, talking quietly among themselves as the fire crackles, casting an orange glow in the surrounding area. From where he’s standing, the Ghostface is able to discern who the survivors are; he watches Ace lean against the log, a sly grin to his features as he snatches a card from the confines of his sleeve, pausing for his ‘ta-dah’ moment in a effort to impress the young woman. Yui nods her head once, clearly unimpressed as she turns her gaze back towards the surrounding woods, scanning the treeline for any sign of movement. With a shrug, Ace brings his hands to the fire, stretching his fingers towards the warmth before retreating, remembering the lack of temperature from the flames. Had he been less miserable, the Ghostface might have laughed to himself, amused by the older man’s forgetfulness.

When he looks to the other two survivors, the Ghostface’s heart sinks. Nancy leans forward, rubbing her arms in a comforting manner. Despite their presence in the realms, a part of the Ghostface is drawn towards Nancy; drawn like a cat is towards a little mouse. Within the trials, he revels in the way that she’s always filled with determination, always doing her part to ensure that her team thrives. And because of her devotion to helping teammates, he makes quick work of her, quick to throw her up on the hook, quick to press his hands against her bare skin. He’s more than aware of her mixed feelings for him and despite the initial compassion he had shown many trials ago, the sincerity now is fake and sick, a softness shown to garner sympathy from the young girl. It’s a game he’s come to enjoy; a game he never wants to end.

Nancy casts a quick glance at the survivor next to her and says something faint. They acknowledge her with a shrug, turning back to face the trail, a noticeable tension to their shoulders.

The Ghostface is not surprised by their chilliness, given how withdrawn they had become following their encounter with him. While he’s not gone up against them in his own trials, he’s observed them at the campfire, observed them when they’re not by the fire. There are times where they’re alone, venturing deep into the wood to find a place to be alone; they sometimes scream profanities at the sky, banging their fists into the rocks, leaving the ground bloody and voice hoarse as their shoulders slump forward. While difficult to watch, he prefers the anger over the silence. The times where they say nothing, where the surrounding woods are void of their roars, is when the Ghostface is unable to stalk, unable to observe from the darkness. The scene is too intimate, too familiar, and a part of him always wants to reach for them, to hold their hands in his own as he had done so many times before. He never gives into the urge, and remains hidden, simply watching, as he had done before coming to the Realms, before he had become the Ghostface. He remains hidden just like he had been beneath their bedroom window; just like he had been the night of his first kill.

Despite this, the Ghostface would rather watch them in their loneliness than endure the suffering that comes with their company. The times where David emerges, rushing to their aid as he checks over them for injuries leave the Ghostface in a cool rage, a ugly urge to maim and slaughter rising within him. While there have been no words passed between the two men in quite some time, the Ghostface always makes sure to target David when in his trials; to hurt him in the ways that seeing them together leaves the Ghostface hurting.

They have their back pressed to the end of the log, their face hidden in shadow as they press their cheek against the top of their knees. The position that the Ghostface is in gives little room to see their face, and he contemplates moving closer to catch a glimpse of them, regardless of how small it may be. He presses down, ready to move, when figures emerge from the fog, trekking towards the campfire. David leads the group, rubbing his chest, a bright red mark soaring downwards along his sternum, a clear sign that he had not made it out of the trial alive. The Ghostface grins inwardly, reminding himself to thank Bubba once he is done here.

Yet, when he watches them leap to their feet and charge at David, a loud laugh escaping the british man as they crash into him. They wrap their arms tightly around him, their once taut back relaxing, as if his presence simply swept away all the stress they had been enduring. David returns the hug eagerly, pressing a quick kiss to the top of their head.  
Hot, blinding anger courses through the Ghostface and he forgets himself for a moment, forgets his position as stalks forward, the knife clenched within his hand. He knows that this is forbidden, that should he ambush them here, the consequences would be dire. Even then, this isn’t enough to make him stop, and he’s ready to charge, ready to gut them all when he’s brought to a dead stop.  
They’re smiling at David the way they had smiled back then, back in the car on their drive home from school. Danny can almost see the same orange glow they had been cast in then, their cheek pressed to their hand, their eyes closed in a peaceful manner.

Danny’s recoiling, the knife slipping from his grasp as he scampers backwards, his breathing heavy and shallow. He feels as if he’s been burned, as if he's been set ablaze. He watches from the shadows, fingers raw and bloody from gripping into the dirt below. His mask is discarded, forgotten, and Danny feels naked without it, bare without the ominous Ghostface covering him.

In this moment, he’s not the Ghostface, the murderous stalker intent on bringing terror to those who are unfortunate enough to cross his path. He’s not Jed Olsen, reporter extraordinaire with exclusive access to the Ghostface case, retrieving evidence and news that none could hope to achieve. He is just Danny Johnson, a man longing for his lover to return to him.


End file.
